Publisher's Summary

The good news is Jennifer Traig does not have lupus, multiple sclerosis, Huntington's disease, Crohn's disease, or muscular dystrophy. She discovers that she does not have SUDS, the mysterious disorder that claims healthy young Asian men in their sleep, nor does she have Foreign Accent Syndrome, the bizarre but real neurological condition that transforms native West Virginians into Eliza Doolittle overnight.

What she does have is hypochondria. Jenny Traig's inquiry into her ailment is not only an uproariously funny account but also a literary tour of hypochondria, past and present: the implied hypochondria of the Talamud, the flatulence-obsessed 18th century, and the malady's current unfortunate lack of a celebrity spokesperson.

At the same time, Traig provides an intimate look at the complement of minor conditions that have concealed her essential health and driven her persistent self-diagnosis: the eczema, the shaky hands, and, worst of all, the bad hair.

I love memoirs, but this book was not a true memoir. Instead it was random facts, history, and on a very rare occasion a story from her past about hypochondria. I want to hear someone's story, not the history of the disease. This was a complete waste of my audible credits.

This book is well narrated and easy to listen to. Informative and interesting as well as funny, the subject surprisingly entertaining. Highly recommended for people who like non-fiction that teaches and entertains.